


Mending the Ripped Fabric

by Moit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Miscommunication, Past Mpreg, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the following anonymous Tumblr prompt: Stiles had thought Derek loved him as much as he loved Derek. In fact he had given Derek his virginity but after a wonderful summer together Derek coldly rejects Stiles leaves that same day for New York with out an explanation. Five years later Stiles is making a living as a deputy and raising his son Declan it's tiring but Stiles is managing. Then suddenly Derek is back and he's determined to prove to Stiles that he still loves him and wants him back more so when he find out about his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Anon, I can't thank you enough for this prompt. This is dedicated to you, whoever you are. 
> 
> This fic is also unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> ETA: I screwed up slightly: the prompt says "five years later," but I wrote seven years later. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiny beta thanks to Naemi!!

Stiles’ day had not started out well. First, he spilled coffee on his shirt and had to change, then Declan threw a fit because he wanted to wear his favorite Spiderman shirt to school, but it was in the wash. They weren’t late, but very close.

 

By the time Stiles got to work, there was a stack of paperwork on his desk, and his dad did not look happy.

 

“Stiles, I need to see you in my office.”

 

As soon as the door shut, the young deputy was muttering apologies. “I’m sorry, Dad, my alarm clock didn’t go off, so I woke up late, and rushing Declan put him in a shitty mood—”

 

“Stiles,” the Sheriff sighed as he sat behind his desk. “Derek is back in town.”

 

“What?” Stiles snapped to attention. “Since when?”

 

“Parrish saw him at the gas station last night.”

 

“Why didn't he text me?”

 

“Because I asked him not to.”

 

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Stunned, he sat back in his chair.

 

“If you need some time off . . .”

 

“No.” Shaking his head, Stiles stood up. “If he could leave me seven years ago without so much as a _phone call_ , there’s no reason to believe he’ll track me down now. I’m not going to run.”

 

Even as he left his dad’s office, though, Stiles’ mind was in turmoil.

 

It got even worse when Derek himself walked through the door less than an hour later. All the feelings Stiles thought he had locked away, all the pain, came back with a speed that made his heart clang in his chest. He hoped fervently they would get a call, but luck had never been on his side when it came to Derek.

 

Derek didn’t notice him at first, and Stiles kept his head down, hoping the werewolf would go away. He might have, if Courtnee at the front desk hadn’t pointed him in Stiles’ direction.

 

Gritting his teeth, Stiles kept his eyes locked on the report in front of him. He didn’t look up until Derek’s body entered his sight.

 

“How can I help you?” Stiles drawled, dragging his eyes up the silhouette of a body he remembered all too well.

 

The lines around Derek’s eyes hinted at his age, but otherwise, it was the same face etched into Stiles’ mind. Derek had traded in his leather jacket and Henley combo for a grey turtleneck sweater that part of Stiles itched to dig his hands into. Derek looked like someone’s dad, and the worst part was that he had no idea he was.

 

“Or not help you because I don’t have anything to say to you.”

 

“I deserve that.”

 

“You deserve a lot more than that.”

 

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, so I’ll just say this: I’ll be at The Little Bakery tonight at 6. If you’re not there by 6:30, I’ll go back to New York, and you’ll never see me again.” Derek turned and walked out the door before Stiles could say a word.

 

 

For the rest of the day, Stiles agonized about whether he should go. In the end, Scott convinced him to go for Declan’s sake. So, at 6:05, Stiles parked his car and walked into The Little Bakery. The smell of fresh bread and coffee hit him instantly, and Stiles felt his stomach rumble in response.

 

Derek was sitting at a table in the corner with two cups in front of him. “I got you a mocha. I know that’s your favorite. Or, at least, it used to be.”

 

“I can’t drink caffeine anymore.” Stiles shrugged out of his coat and walked over to the counter. He returned with a cup of herbal tea and a blueberry muffin. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said as he sat down. “I’m starving.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Stiles bit into his muffin. “Well, I’m all ears. Please, tell me why you lied about loving me, stole my virginity, and then disappeared for seven years, because, Derek, I’m absolutely _dying_ to know.”

 

For his part, Derek seemed prepared for this. He had damn well better be, anyway, since he had nearly a decade to think this through. In some ways, Stiles still wished he never came back. It ruined the illusion that Derek died loving him, and instead, lived without loving him at all.

 

“Do you know what an Alpha pack is?”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Derek. Are you seriously talking to me about werewolves right now?”

 

“Stiles, please just answer the question,” Derek said, and the pain in his voice conveyed how serious he was.

 

“No.” Stiles took another bite of his muffin, watching Derek with critical eyes.

 

“An Alpha pack, like the name suggests, is made up of Alpha werewolves. This kind of pack is much stronger, deadlier. They kill their own betas to gain power.”

 

“Great story. Why should I care? Have you joined one?”

 

“There was one that wanted me. They threatened to kill everyone in my pack—your pack, now, I guess—if I wouldn’t, so I left. It was the only way to keep any of you safe.”

 

Stiles felt the muffin in his mouth turn to ash. He pushed the rest of it away. “Why didn’t you come back once they left? Why wait so long?”

 

“Because I had to make sure they were gone. It took Cora and I much longer than we thought, but we hunted down and killed every single one of them. To keep you safe.”

 

“Is Cora an Alpha, now?”

 

“No. She . . . didn’t want it.”

 

“But, you can’t . . . you can’t just . . . ” Stiles passed a hand over his face. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

 

“Do you need—”

 

“I certainly don’t need anything from you, so if you think you’re going to just waltz in here after 7 years without so much as a _text message_ , then you’re wrong.”

 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Stiles,” Derek said quietly.

 

 

Originally, Stiles had intended to tell Derek about Declan only after the werewolf had proven he wasn’t going to skip town again, but that plan went out the window when Stiles spotted Derek at the grocery store. He thought about ditching his cart and leaving, but that would lead to Declan asking questions Stiles wasn’t prepared to answer.

 

Instead, he kept inspecting peaches and holding onto Declan’s hand like he thought his son’s other father would snatch him up and run. Stiles couldn’t help the way his heart started to beat a heavy tattoo against his ribs.

 

“Hey, Stiles. It’s good to see you.”

 

Stiles puled his gaze away from the peaches. “I’m surprised to see you’re still in town.”

 

Beside him, Declan crept closer, wrapping himself around his father’s leg. Stiles dropped a hand onto the child’s head, weaving his fingers though fine, dark hair.

 

Derek glanced down at Declan and back up at Stiles. Squatting down, he put himself at a height with the little boy. “Hi,” he said, offering a rare smile. “My name is Derek. I’m a friend of your . . . ” He trailed off, looking up at Stiles as he realized he had no idea what the relationship was between the two.

 

“This is my son, Declan,” Stiles said, and left it at that. No way was he going all Maury Povich on Derek in the middle of SAV MOR. Nevertheless, the statement drew Derek’s bushy eyebrows even higher up his forehead.

 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Declan,” Derek said.

 

After staring at the man for what felt like an eternity, Declan offered a soft, “Hi,” and then turned his head into Stiles’ hip.

 

Taking his cue, Derek stood up. “I should probably get going. Take care, Stiles.” His eyes lingered on Declan for another moment before he walked away.

 

 

Although Stiles didn’t bump in to Derek again for several weeks, he knew he was still in town, but that could have been because Stiles would make a point to drive past the motel where Derek was staying every so often during his regular patrol. The worst part was the guilt Stiles was beginning to feel, especially after Derek admitted that everything he’d done had been to protect him and the rest of the pack.

 

So, Stiles decided, during one of his patrols, to stop and see Derek. He’d found out from Scott what room Derek was in, but it took every ounce of courage he had to knock on the door.

 

When Derek answered, he was wearing athletic shorts and an old Beacon Hills Basketball t-shirt. He looked so much more relaxed than Stiles ever remembered seeing him.

 

“Good evening, Deputy. How can I help you?”

 

Stiles flinched. “Can we talk?” Even to his own ears, he sounded more like the teenager he used to be than the man of the law he was now.

 

“Of course. Please, come in.” Derek stepped back from the door to allow Stiles entry. For a cheap motel, the room was well kept. Clothes were piled in the corner in and around a duffle bag. The television was on, but Derek muted it after shutting the door. “Would you like to sit down?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” Stiles said. He’d imagined this moment so many times after he found out he was pregnant, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words. “Declan’s your son,” he blurted without preamble.

 

The tense silence in the room was broken only by the dull hum of the air conditioner. When no reply from Derek was forthcoming, Stiles plowed on.

 

“Did you know? Did you know that I could get pregnant? Or that I did? Did you know about Declan?” As far as Stiles was aware, the rest of the pack had appeared to be just as confused and uninformed as him when Derek left him pregnant, alone, and afraid. Thankfully, when the need arose, Scott assumed his position as a True Alpha and took over the three bitten betas, the banshee, and the pregnant boy. None of them had any more or less tie to the runaway Alpha than another, save for Declan.

 

Derek stared at his hands as he spoke. “I had heard that an Alpha could impregnate a male under the right circumstances, and I had my suspicious when I met him, but no, I had no idea I fathered a son.” He raised his face, then, and Stiles could see the tears in his eyes. For all he wanted to scream and hit the Alpha, Derek’s expression tugged at his heartstrings. “Stiles, if I had known . . . ” His voice broke on the last word, and the tears began to fall in earnest.

 

In that moment, Stiles did the only thing he could think of: He closed the space between them, wrapped his arms around Derek, and let the werewolf sob into his shirt.

 

Eventually, Derek’s sobs faded into little hiccoughs, and Stiles carded a hand through his hair. Stiles hadn’t realized until now how much Declan resembled his other father. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Derek said, pulling away to wipe at his eyes. “Would you let me see him?”

 

Stiles shifted nervously. “Let me tell him first. He doesn’t . . . all he knows is that his other father left. He hadn’t gotten old enough to start asking questions, and I will not allow your reappearance to fuck up my son. I know you had your reasons, but for as long as he’s been alive, you haven’t existed.”

 

A swallow rolled down Derek’s throat. “Fair enough.”

 

 

Stiles waited until he was alone with Declan to have a talk about Derek. He may have fed Declan macaroni and cheese to put him in a good mood, and now they were playing cars on the living room floor.

 

“Declan, do you remember my friend, Derek? The one we met at the grocery store?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“He seems nice, don’t you think?”

 

Declan shrugged. “I guess.”

 

Stiles fell silent as they resumed playing. He couldn’t seem to muster the right words. “Do you ever think about your other dad?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“What’s he like, do you think?” Stiles propped his chin on his hand. Maybe this would be easier if he let Declan create his own image of Derek.

 

“I dunno. Strong. And he can fix things. Like Grandpa.”

 

“Are you saying I can’t fix things?”

 

“Dad.” Declan gave him a serious look that made him look wise beyond his years. “You’re kind of a klutz.”

 

Laughing, Stiles shook his head as he watched his son. All things considered, Declan was a happy child from a loving home. “What if I told you . . . Derek is your other dad? Would that be okay?”

 

Declan looked up, his eyes wide. “Do we get to keep him?”

 

Stiles could practically feel his heart breaking. How do you tell your six-year-old, _Well, Son, since your father doesn’t have a good track record of sticking around, I can’t be sure he’ll stay this time_?

 

 

They decided to meet at the park, since it was neutral ground; plus, it gave Declan something to do.

 

Derek, who had been sitting on a swing, stood up as Stiles and Declan approached. His expression was so full of hope that Stiles almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Declan clung to Stiles’ hand like a lifeline, eyeing Derek like he wasn’t sure what to make of the other man. The three of them stopped in front of one another. To Stiles, it felt like a standoff.

 

Once again, Derek squatted down so he was eye-level with his son. “Hi, Declan.”

 

“You’re my other dad?”

 

Derek nodded solemnly. “I am.”

 

“You have a hairy face.”

 

“It’s called a beard,” Stiles correctly gently.

 

Declan rolled his eyes. “You have a hairy _beard_.”

 

Derek chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. What grade are you in?”

 

Instead of answering, Declan gave a tight-lipped smile—like Stiles—and swayed back and forth.

 

“Tell him,” Stiles said, nudging his son. “What grade are you in?”

 

Declan held up his forefinger.

 

“First grade?” Derek managed to look impressed. “Do you like your teacher?”

 

“Uh huh,” Declan smiled, a real one this time, and showed off the gap where one of his front teeth used to be. Derek’s question seemed to be the key because a moment later Declan was talking Derek’s ear off about his classmates, learning the alphabet, and the fish tank for which the class was collectively responsible. He even asked Derek to push him on the swing—after assuring it was okay with Stiles, of course.

 

When it was time to part, Declan pulled Stiles down so he could whisper in his dad’s ear, “I think we should keep him.”

 

Stiles’ heart hadn’t ached so badly since Derek left him the first time.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire thing by hand. I ache and desperately need my wrist brace. 
> 
> Special thanks to D and T for brainstorming and cheerleading. 
> 
> Betaed by Naemi.

For the next week, Derek was all Declan could talk about. He took great pride in relaying all the facts he had learned about his “other daddy,” like Derek’s affinity for pickles, talent at basketball, and dislike of math. Stiles was beginning to grow weary of Derek Talk, but he wouldn’t say anything to redirect his son, lest it give him the impression that he couldn’t or shouldn’t talk about his other father.

 

In an effort to combat the problem, Stiles invited Derek out for pizza with the caveat that “It’s just for Declan, so don’t get any ideas,” despite the fact that his traitorous body would like for nothing more than Derek to _get_ _ideas_.

 

They met at Chuck E. Cheese’s. The pizza here wasn’t very good, it was a battle to get Declan to sit still and eat a single piece.

 

“You’re really good with him,” Derek remarked as Declan shot off to go climb on the plastic indoor jungle gym.

 

“I’ve had a lot of practice, I guess,” Stiles replied, stacking the paper plates on their table.

 

“Stiles, I’m sorry. I don’t know if I’ve said that, yet, and if I have, once doesn’t seem to be enough.”

 

“Don’t apologize. I don’t regret anything about Declan. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I would say I should be thanking you, but that would be a little absurd, given the circumstances.”

 

The silence fell between them until Declan ran back over to the table. “Come on, Derek! I want to show you the ball pit!”

 

“Oooh,” Derek said, sounding for all the world like this was the opportunity of a lifetime. “You’ll have to excuse me. Declan and I are going to visit the ball pit.”

 

Stiles watched as Derek allowed their son to pull him across the room towards the giant bin full of colorful plastic balls. Affection swelled in his chest as he watched them together.

 

After nearly two hours of playing and laughing and pizza, Declan was half-asleep in Stiles’ lap while his parents chatted about nothing and everything.

 

“We should probably get going,” Stiles said, looking up at the giant pizza clock.

 

“Of course,” Derek said, practically jumping out of his seat. “Do you need any help?”

 

Stiles stood up with Declan clinging to him like a limpet. “Nah,” he said, digging his car keys out of his pocket. “We’re good. Thank you, though.”

 

Derek walked them out to the car, waiting quietly as Stiles buckled Declan into the backseat. “Thank you,” he said after the door was shut. “I know none of this is easy, but I really appreciate you letting me spend time with him. I know I’ll never get back the last six years—or even the nine months that you carried him—but I’m going to do everything I can to be a better . . . part of his life. And yours, if you’ll let me.”

 

“I want you to be in Declan’s life as much as you do, believe me. But, Derek, when you left, it absolutely ruined me. My dad almost checked me in to Eichen House over it. I can’t, and won’t, let you back in any farther than absolutely necessary.”

 

“I understand. I don’t expect things to go back to the way they were.” Derek cleared his throat. “But when you’re up to it—and if the answer is ‘never,’ I understand—I’d really like to hear about what I missed whiled I was gone.”

 

There was a pregnant pause before Stiles answer. “Maybe. I’ll let you know. Have a good night, Derek.” He climbed into the car before the other man could push the issue.

 

 

They continued to meet weekly so Declan could spend time with Derek. Stiles wasn’t yet comfortable allowing his ex to take their son alone, but Derek was more than happy to spend time with both of them. After a while, it became clear that Stiles wouldn’t let Derek take Declan until they talked, so he agreed to dinner.

 

“This is not a date,” Stiles reminded him for the third time as they were seated. “Think of it as a business meeting. I’m interviewing you to determine whether I feel safe enough sending my only child off with you.”

 

“Duly noted.”

 

“So let’s cut to the chase. How long do you plan on staying in Beacon Hills, Derek?”

 

The werewolf took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “To be completely honest, I don’t really know. Cora is back in New York, along with the rest of my things . . . ”

 

Stiles’ jaw clenched.

 

“But I came back. I didn’t know if—I had hoped that—I came back here hoping for the best and planning for the worst. Finding out about Declan was both thrilling and terrifying. I still want you, but I’m willing to wait, even if that means the rest of my life.”

 

Leaning back in his chair, Stiles made a noise of amusement. “This is not going to be nice, but I have been waiting so long for this moment. You said you wanted to know what happened while you were gone, right?”

 

Derek hummed in reply. It was clear by his expression that he had prepared himself for this. It almost made Stiles want to go easy on him.

 

“I went to your apartment the day after you left. By some miracle or twist of fate, you left the door unlocked, so I knew when I saw the note for your landlord. That made me feel so valued, Derek. I thought you actually loved me, you know?” Stiles paused to take a sip of water. “Nobody knows that I sat in your bed and cried for _hours_. When I got home, I told my dad we broke up. I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was like five months along. You can imagine how that conversation went with my dad, but he took it surprisingly well.

 

“It wasn’t until Declan was born that I finally began to feel like myself again. But the worst part wasn’t waking up at 3 a.m. with a colicky baby the night before final exams. Do you know what the worst part was, Derek?” Sitting back in his chair, Stiles allowed the anger to bleed from his face. “The worst part was hoping that you would come back home. I fantasized so much about you showing up at the door with a great reason for leaving, and then you would see Declan and fall in love with him and we could be . . . a family.

 

“But then you missed his first birthday . . . first word—it was ‘moon,’ by the way—first steps . . . potty training . . . learning to read . . . By the time I put him in preschool, I had given up hope that I would ever see you again. I know you had a good reason for leaving, and I respect that. But, you can do the right thing the wrong way.”

 

Derek’s expression remained unreadable. “Believe me, Stiles, nothing you can say will ever eclipse the pain and guilt I’ll continue to layer on myself.”

 

Stiles pinched his lips together. As much as he wanted Derek to hurt, he also knew that the werewolf blamed himself for the death of his family. “I really fucking missed you,” he admitted, finally. “Being without you was like swimming under water without oxygen.”

 

Derek gave him a small smile. “Hasn’t there been . . . someone else?”

 

Stiles shook his head. The very idea hurt to think about. “I haven’t really had time between school and raising Declan.”

 

 

Derek kept his word about sticking around, and Stiles gradually began to allow him to pick Declan up from school so they could spend more time together. Declan returned home from each of his adventures with Derek with more stories about his other father.

 

It was during one of these moments that Declan asked, “Is Derek coming to live with us?” which nearly made Stiles choke on his spaghetti.

 

He took a long sip of water before answering. “Why would he?”

 

“Because he’s my other daddy,” Declan replied, twisting the fork in his hand.

 

“Well, sometimes parents live in different houses.”

 

“But Derek said he doesn’t have a house here. He could share ours, and then we could all be together.”

 

It was times like this that Stiles regretted what he had put his father through when he was younger. “Declan,” he said gently, “it’s not that easy. I’m not sure how long Derek is even planning to stay in Beacon Hills.”

 

Declan’s little face fell, and his attention returned to his spaghetti.

 

Stiles hated to be the bad guy, but it was better than watching Derek break Declan’s heart. Still, Stiles couldn’t deny that his feelings for Derek were resurfacing. There had been no one before or after him, and Stiles’ body ached for satisfaction.

 

 

However, all of their bonding came to a grinding halt the night Scott found out there was a rogue omega who had come to Beacon Hills in the hope of finding protection from one of the available Alphas. Unfortunately, he also brought with him a group of hunters.

 

As Scott and Derek hashed out the plan, Stiles stood off to the side, arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin, firm line. He was of two minds about the whole situation. One the one hand, all Stiles could see was Derek leaving again, luring the omega away. On the other hand, if Derek stayed, it could put the entire pack in harm’s way.

 

“Stiles?” Scott asked. “What are you thinking?”

 

“Gridlock.”

 

Derek raised an eyebrow.

 

“Gridlock?” Scott repeated.

 

“We’re damned if we do, and damned if we don’t. Declan and I lose either way. If the omega stays, so do the hunters. The only way to get him to leave is by using Derek as bait.”

 

“Using me as bait.” Derek nodded slowly. “Not exactly what I was thinking.”

 

“Do you have a better idea?” Stiles snapped. By this point, his nerves were shot.

 

“We were thinking about letting the hunters take care of the omega,” Scott said gently.

 

“Great. That’s just great. Now, we’re accessories to murder. I can’t wait to explain _this_ one to my dad. Jesus . . . ” Stiles dug a hand through his hair. “I could lose my badge for this. How is my life such a constant fuck story?”

 

“Has anyone called Argent?” Derek asked. “Maybe he knows these hunters.”

 

Scott shook his head. “He moved back to Virginia after we graduated high school.”

 

“What about Allison?”

 

“She’s . . . my wife, not a hunter.”

 

“Let me call Argent, then.”

 

Scott looked dubious, but Derek managed to coax the number out of him. Chris picked up on the third ring. “Argent.”

 

“This is Derek Hale.” While he spoke, Derek rolled his lips inward, a nervous habit Stiles remembered from their time together. “I need a favor.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Beacon Hills.”

 

“I’ll be on the next plane.” A moment later, the line went dead.

 

“He’s on his way,” Derek said, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

 

Stiles huffed out a breath. “Now, what?”

 

 

The answer to his question turned out to be Stiles and Allison taking Declan up to the mountains for the weekend. The idea was to keep Declan safe with Stiles’ gun and Allison’s bow while the rest of the pack dealt with the omega and the hunters.

 

Since they had never been on a “real” vacation, Declan was practically vibrating with excitement. “Why isn’t Derek coming?”

 

“Because he has to work,” Stiles answered automatically.

 

“Where does he work?”

 

“With my dad,” Allison chirped from the front seat. “Did you know that sometimes we see animals in the mountains?”

 

The question spurred an entire conversation about what they were going to do over the weekend, and Stiles gave Allison a grateful smile. As much as he trusted Scott and Chris, Stiles couldn’t stamp down the fear that he might never see Derek again.

 

With nothing else to occupy his mind, Stiles poured all of his fear and anxiety into making memories with Allison and Declan. They hiked the kid-friendly trails, swam in the lake, and took Declan on his first fishing trip.

 

On the third day of their visit, Stiles opted to remain in the cabin to get some more sleep while Allison took Declan to a class on reptiles. He was just beginning to fall asleep when someone knocked on the door.

 

“ _Allison_ ,” he groaned, throwing the blankets off his body.

 

When he opened the door, however, he wasn’t prepared for Derek to attack his mouth with a bruising kiss. When Stiles found his breath, he panted out, “Derek—what the hell are you doing here?”

 

“I cannot live without you. I know you may never forgive me for what I did to you, but if I don’t at least try, I’ll never forgive myself.”

 

“First of all,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek by the shirtfront, “get in here. I am not having this conversation within earshot of everyone on this floor.”

 

The door clicked shut behind them.

 

Derek waited anxiously while Stiles paced across the floor. The younger man turned around and stalked forward until they were chest-to-chest.

 

“If you leave again, it won’t just be my heart you’ll break.” Stiles surged forward, pressing his mouth to Derek’s. He poured everything into the kiss, all of his anger, his frustration, worry, sadness, and most of all, the love he’d carried for Derek Hale for years.

 

In that moment, Stiles finally felt the broken pieces of his heart begin to mend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@moitness](http://moitness.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone feels like leaving me some more awesome prompts, you can do that [here](http://moitness.tumblr.com/ask) or just [visit me on Tumblr](http://moitness.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


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